


Torsion

by Vilestrumpet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dance Metaphors, Exhibitionism, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Het and Slash, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilestrumpet/pseuds/Vilestrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah has an unfulfilled sexual fantasy and John wants to make her happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of fic ever so I hope you like it. The title is inspired by the incredibly powerful and visceral dance work choreographed by Russell Maliphant and first performed by the original Ballet Boyz/George Piper Dances in 2002. The video clip is embedded at the end of the work.
> 
> I owe a huge debt of thanks to splix for her friendship, encouragement, beta services and advice on writing generally.

John looked up at Sarah’s flushed and glistening face, tendrils of her long sandy hair sticking to the dampness and dusting over her pink, proud nipples.  Soft moans and pants spilled from her O-shaped mouth. Shafts of blue peered down with lust at John.  John slid his hands over her sweaty back, down her smooth, pale curves and gave her buttocks a firm squeeze. 

“That’s it John.  Don’t stop John,” she breathed. “That feels… lovely… don’t you dare stop.”

John liked Sarah Sawyer. Quite a lot actually.  She was an English Rose - a beauty in a subtle, unthreatening girl-next-door way. John liked her feminine, floaty dress-sense, the long unfussy hair, understated make-up and unflappable nature.  It took an awful lot to get Sarah stressed, which was useful for a GP in a busy London surgery in Camden, as well as useful for dating an ex-army doctor with a sideline in apprehending dangerous criminals with his flatmate.  That much had been obvious when Sarah showed remarkable sanguinity after being kidnapped, bound, gagged and almost speared through the heart by the Black Lotus gang - a high stress situation in anyone’s book. Her hand-to-hand combat skills were also above average for a family doctor. 

“John,” she groaned. “I’m ...close… oh ...oh … ohhh” With eyes scrunching closed she exploded in a symphony of shrieks and yelps, followed by a long diminuendo of mews, moans and pants as her body twitched and pulsed around John as he held her up with his strong, muscled arms.

Yes, all in all, Sarah Sawyer was a surprising mélange of beauty, sensuality, spirit and fearlessness - an intoxicating combination for Dr John Watson. 

ooOoo

Even Sherlock had grudgingly grown to like Sarah.  Compared to other women that John was attracted to, she was not a complete waste of space. She was surprisingly sharp and had shown genuine interest in the Work, even going so far as to supply Sherlock with a breakthrough on the case with the Chinese ciphers.  She didn't even seem to mind that much that she had to play second fiddle to the detective work and a demanding flatmate.  Sherlock supposed that Sarah probably got a kick out of being closely associated with such an interesting and unusual man as John Watson.  Who wouldn't be drawn to that package of solder/doctor/assistant detective/blogger? 

Sherlock would very much prefer that John didn’t have any girlfriends. Fine if he just wanted to go and shag someone but it was tiresome that John felt it necessary to develop “feelings” for someone, the pursuit of which necessitated evenings out or in with food, drink and giggling; inane chatting where it was felt obligatory to share banalities of one’s childhood, education, opinion on current affairs, favourite films, music, colour, ughh.  How could he stand the sentiment, the whimsy?  

When he considered the state of his friendship with John this is what he concluded: the two of them shared an excellent camaraderie with diverting conversation (and its counterpart, comfortable silence), a useful exchange of ideas, not all of which were relevant to the Work, and most of all, a deep connection bound in mutual trust. They each supplied to the other the things that each of them lacked - danger and adventure for John; an admiring audience and a buffer against plebs for Sherlock - the very definition of co-dependency.  They protected each other.  They entertained each other.  It was in every way a perfect, solid partnership. Wasn’t it? What else did people have relationships for? Oh… yes… that.  Why did the simpletons in the general populace have to conflate ‘relationships’ and ‘sex’?  Surely the two things served entirely different purposes and Sherlock was absolutely certain you didn’t need one to have the other. 

ooOoo

Sherlock had sex with people.  About a month after meeting John, there was the first evidence.  Sherlock was teasing his curls in front of the mirror, looking more casual than usual in narrow black jeans and a white pique shirt. The scent of Music Nomade wafted around the flat, cologne that cost more than John’s entire year’s worth of toiletries probably.  Everything about the man shouted ‘LAVISH’. Christ, the man was gorgeous, thought John.  It wasn’t just the cheekbones or the glossy dark curls or the iridescent jewels that were Sherlock’s eyes. There, turning and moving with coiled grace, was this languorous other-worldliness; was he even aware that he was the most magnetic and alluring creature in any space he occupied?  

“Off out?” asked John, flicking up the newspaper as he plopped into his chair with affected nonchalance. 

“Yes,” was the economical reply.

“Case-related?”

“No.”

“Fine, you don’t have to tell me,” huffed John, pretending to be absorbed by the Formula 1 poll rankings in the paper. 

“I’m going on a date,” the ‘T’ emphatically struck, then, “Well, I say ‘date’...”.

“Oh... so ... that means ... it’s not a date? What, just a quick shag then, no strings attached?” chuckled John, forcing levity.

“In a nutshell.”

“Right.”  Well that was him told.  John certainly wasn’t judging Sherlock.  John had had his fair share of hook-ups.  Sherlock had said he didn’t have a boyfriend and didn’t want a relationship to interfere in his 'marriage' to the Work. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a fully-functioning adult male in need of an occasional release to blow away the cobwebs, so to speak. John stifled a snigger at his own double-entendre and felt like a schoolboy. _Grow up Watson _.__

“Have fun then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he called, catching a very arch smirk thrown over the shoulder of a smouldering detective as he strode out of the flat. 

ooOoo

John and Sarah lay cooling down on her bed.  She lived in a modern new-build block in Bow, the apartment flooded with bright natural light reflected off pale walls. Her bedroom was like her - modern femininity writ large in the grey velvet curtains, Designer’s Guild print cushions, crystal chandelier, large painted armoire and 1930’s inspired mirrored chest of drawers.  Her flat was appointed with every modern convenience and a well-stocked fridge.  No wonder John liked staying over once in a while, just to experience the contrast from 221b’s grim disorder.  She never stayed over at his flat.    

John stroked her hair out of her face and kissed her tenderly, enjoying the feeling of just being relaxed and present in the moment.   

“You’re very talented Dr Watson,” complimented Sarah with a wisp of a smile.

“Well thank you Dr Sawyer. You’re not too bad yourself.” After a beat he grinned and asked, “So, if you were to rate that experience out of 10…?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him and asked, “What are we rating? The sex we’ve just had compared to all the other times we’ve had sex? Or compared to all the sex I’ve ever had?”

“Er, trust you to take this so literally,” laughed John, slightly regretting the course of this conversation now. “I was hoping you were just going to say ‘11.’”  He paused and then ventured, “How many … lovers… have you had anyway?”

“Oh no, no, no. We’re _not _having that conversation.  That conversation never ends well.” laughed Sarah ruefully.__

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” John conceded. “Forget I asked.”

“Actually, different question, but I’m going to ask it.  You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” ventured Sarah.

“Go on,” said John warily.

“Okay. What’s your go-to sexual fantasy? And don’t hold back.  I’m not easily shocked.”

John thought it best to give a fairly generic, vanilla example, Sarah’s invitation notwithstanding.  “Mm, I suppose, two women, kissing, rubbing their breasts together, one licking each other out and me as the sandwich filling at some point. Fairly tame and predictable I’m afraid.  We get quite good audio from Mrs Turner’s married ones next door, Chrissy and Diane.  It’s, er, actually quite hot, even if I have to supply the visual myself. What’s yours?”

“Mmm, next time invite me round. Okay, doing it with another woman does feature quite heavily in the showreel in my mind. Yes, that often does the business.”

John snuggled up to her with an eager look on his face.  “Mmm, go on… what else?”

“Have you ever … been with another man? Snogged, or … more?” Sarah fixed John with a clear, inquiring gaze.

John huffed out a little laugh and then decided to be honest so he matched her gaze and nodded. “In the army, sure. And before that as well, at university.  What can I say? I was a pretty boy when I was young.  I got lots of attention,” he shrugged. 

“Really?” Sarah almost squealed in delight. “I mean of course you did,” she hastily corrected and then crooned. “Well, I’ll tell you what would really turn me on.  What I’d _really _like to watch?”__

John could see where this was going and his stomach suddenly roiled in an unsettling brew of one part curiosity, two parts panic and three parts arousal.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't get enough of the drunken flatmates. Tonight, they broach an awkward topic. Well, awkward for one of them at least.

Stumbling up the stairs to the flat, they bumped shoulders and staggered into the living room, pleasantly pissed after a long evening at the King’s Arms. It had been John’s idea, well really Sarah’s, but both men always forgot how much fun it was to get rat-arsed together and make fun of the patrons at the pub. There were at least eight new faces in tonight and Sherlock left no stone unturned in his deductions of them. Except for one odious gallery curator pawing at his female assistant 30 years his junior who deserved to have his adultery called out, Sherlock delivered his musings privately to John by pressing quite closely into the doctor’s personal space. It was surprising how comfortable and normal this felt between the pair of them - like they'd been bosom buddies for years.

"So how are things with Sarah?" slurred Sherlock, slumped in his chair after clinking his scotch glass with his similarly sozzled flatmate's.

"Great. She's great," smiled John, as he thought about her. "She's quite remarkable actually. Seems so ... nice and agreeable on the outside. But underneath, she's a ... a bloody toughnut, a ninja, Xena Princess Warrior. Never mind," he said in answer to Sherlock's blank expression. "You wouldn't want to take her on in a dark alley I mean," he laughed. "She's a Tae Kwon Do 3rd Dan d'ya know. She's even been asked by the local NHS Trust to give self-defence classes to GP's in the area."

"I didn't realise that being a GP was such a hazardous occupation," replied Sherlock.

"God yeah, you ought to see it. It's rough sometimes, especially where we are. Every bit of aggression seems to get taken out on NHS staff - it's disgraceful. Course it's not as bad as A&E. Being ex-army is bloody handy actually. It's the urban front-line I tell you, what the NHS staff have to deal with - drug addicts, alcoholics, the mentally ill, chavs, domestic violence.  Sarah had a guy and his wife and their teenage daughter in her consulting room the other day. East African.  He was supposedly there to interpret for them although the daughter could speak perfectly good English. Sarah suspected he was beating up the wife and forcing FGM on the daughter. Sarah started asking a few pointed questions and wanted to do a physcial exam which got the guy angry and shouty. He lunged behind her desk for her patella hammer," snorted John with a laugh. "As if that could have threatened her. She didn't even press the panic button, which I keep telling her she should use. By the time I came in she'd got him pinned against the wall with his arm twisted up behind him," sniggered John, with obvious admiration.

"Yes there's certainly ... more to her than meets the eye," nodded Sherlock. "I can see why you're attracted to her."

John made a noise of assent and looked away, a hazy smile on his face. The pair sat in silence for a few long minutes.

"So out with it then," drawled Sherlock.

"What?"

"You're dying to ask me something. You have been all evening. You got me pissed ... to make it more likely that I'd say yes and you're trying to assess whether I'm sufficiently pissed to say yes, or you're sufficiently pissed to be able to ask without embarrassment."

"Wha- " John's gaze started hopping all over the room, landing anywhere but on Sherlock. John's face also couldn't help contorting into an involuntary grimace that he tried to turn into an innocent butter-wouldn't-melt smile but it was pathetic to try those tricks on Sherlock, the master interpreter of body language and if John had been sober he would have realised that sooner.

"So it's something you want from me, but you're embarrassed to ask for it straight out." Sherlock in Deduction Mode overrode Pissed Sherlock and he picked up speed as the clouds of inebriation parted. "It must be something personal, but not a topic we've ever discussed before because you've never been shy about ... anything, even about money. I know virtually everything about you John ..."

"I haven't told you everything about me," John blurted.

"You may not have _told_ me everything but that doesn't mean I don't know just about everything interesting there is to know about you."

 _Cocky bastard_ , thought John.

"So this is about sex. And you wanting to make a sex-related request. And the reason you've decided to come out with it now is not because of a sudden reassessment of your sexual identity because you're clearly bi-sexual and you've been looking at me since day one and yes, I mean _looking_ in that way. So we've known each other six months and you've avoided making any overtures towards me due to your misguided notion that we shouldn't complicate our friendship by introducing a sexual component. This sudden change has come about because of an idea that Sarah has planted in your head and you want to indulge her. Am I wrong?"

John blew out heavily, shut his eyes and slammed his head back on the chair. Sherlock had just teased out truths that John had barely acknowledged to himself. Was there any point in trying to deny it? Not when his defences were compromised by alcohol. And not when most of it was true. He decided to ignore the part about him fancying Sherlock and just get to the point.

"Sarah wants to watch the two of us ... together," he muttered, fanning the air between them. "But I don't want to do it if it would make either of us uncomfortable because, you're right, I don't want our friendship, our relationship, to get ... difficult."

"All right, yes" said Sherlock abruptly, sipping his scotch and looking at John over the tumbler in his hand.

"Yes? Yes to what? Hang on..." stuttered John.

"Yes, I'll do it. We will put on a show for Sarah. It won't get difficult. John, it's just sex for God's sake. Adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin - simple brain chemistry, friction and the exchange of fluids. Why should it have any effect on our relationship?"

" _What_? Are you serious? I know you can compartmentalise like a boss but sex between friends is a well-known minefield!"

"Yet you've negotiated minefields with less trepidation than this, Captain Watson."

"That was different and you're just being ... Sherlock, this is about emotions ..."

"As I said, John, it's just sex," interrupted Sherlock, talking over John. "But Sarah can't be an active participant. It's not going to be a threesome, nor can she direct the proceedings. She can just watch us, at least the first time. Oh stop over-thinking it John. Emotions don't come into it. At least not for me."

"You're a sodding machine" John muttered, shaking his head in an attempt to process everything he'd just heard. "Hang on, the first time? OK," he blew out gustily, "so just for the sake of argument, if I manage to separate emotions from sex, and we do ... this, nothing else changes? We'll just be ... "

"’Fuckbuddies’ is the term that's used I believe," Sherlock glibly interjected.

"...the same. Is what I meant to say."

"Yes John, we'll be the same as we always have been," said Sherlock slowly, his face inscrutable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the chemistry is incredibly simple, let's get the lab equipment out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where we earn the E rating

“Forget I’m even here,” said Sarah airily, although she was desperately trying to slow her racing heart.  She called up a mental image of a flickering candle and imagined breathing out slowly through her mouth without blowing out the flame.  That technique usually worked to calm her nerves before giving presentations at medical conferences.   

It was often said that sexual fantasies were best left in one’s head because the reality was either overwhelming, disappointing or unsettling.  Mixed in with excitement was growing trepidation. She had never really imagined that she was going to get the chance to explore one of her sexual kinks in an unthreatening, private space with people she trusted.  Well she trusted John at least, and John trusted Sherlock.  And it was very nice of them to agree to put this scene on for her just because she asked.  

_Come on Sarah. You’re not the one on show, so just relax and enjoy it! You’ve been thinking about two fit blokes going at it hammer and tongs for way too long.  Just think how it’s going to spice up your mental PornTube channel.  You're so ready for this - be sassy!_

They had decided to use Sherlock’s bedroom and Sarah settled on a low pouffe on the floor in a far corner by the window.  She wanted to be as little a distraction to them as possible so she curled up in a lacy peignoir over her bra and knickers and covered herself with a blanket.    John and Sherlock had taken their shirts off.  As Nina Simone played in the background, they started edging closer together in an awkward rumba, John looking incredibly nervous but holding eye-contact with Sherlock. Was he shaking? _Oh poor love_ , thought Sarah, _you’re making yourself go through this just for me? I’ll make it worth your while later_ , she promised to herself. 

The two men clasped hands low, fingers laced, and slowly raised them up to nipple height. From their white knuckles and the undulating tendons in their forearms as they flexed, Sarah could tell that they were pushing, resisting, straining against each other, neither yielding, in an edgy exchange of energy.

Sherlock broke the stand-off and gripped John’s arms as he drew him into an embrace. They were still locked in an intense staring contest but so close now that Sarah could practically see the breaths of air exhaled by one and sucked up by the other.  The first kiss was dry and chaste. Another one, lingering longer, and another.  John moved to cover Sherlock’s jaw and cheeks with more light kisses whilst Sherlock nuzzled into John’s ear and … was he sniffing John’s neck?  Yes, Sherlock was inhaling John deeply and, in response, John tilted his head back, shut his eyes with a deep sigh.  He pulled down on Sherlock’s nape, crushing mouths thirstily together.  Lips were being tugged and sucked, tongues laving against each other forcefully.    

_Oh my God, this is so hot, so gorgeous.  They are gorgeous together, and they haven't even got their cocks out yet!_ Sarah thought, feeling the maelstrom building in her chest.  She touched herself through her knickers, a warm flush spreading down from her face and all over her pale, sensitive skin. 

Their hands were moving all over each other in a blur of liquid strength.  They twisted their heads in tandem, locking them neatly over the other man's shoulder and sealing the join with open-mouthed kisses and teeth-scraping.  Each pushing movement by one man had an immediate opposing response by the other; each pull matched with counterbalanced tension, exposed through the rippling and popping sinews in arms, backs and torsos.  Sherlock ducked down and started to lick and kiss John's sternum and moved down towards his navel.  John opened his eyes and glanced at Sarah with a look of momentary confusion which then morphed into a grin.   _OK?_ he mouthed.  She nodded back with huge, dark eyes.  

Sherlock must have sensed a change in John because he leaped up and turned round to give Sarah a sultry smile.  He moved behind John so they were both facing her and resumed kissing the side of John’s neck.  The two men looked at Sarah now, as if remembering that this was meant to be a performance for her.  When Sherlock palmed over John's nipples the smaller man's breath hitched loudly and his head lolled back onto Sherlock’s shoulder which gave Sherlock an open invitation to suck and nip his jugular.  John was moaning breathily now and his broad, muscly torso was arched backwards over his friend - the posture wanton and exposed.  Sherlock’s hands smoothed southwards, trapping his friend's arms, and massaged the top of John’s thighs, revealing the bulge at John's groin.  The long fingers moved to close the distance to the doctor’s clothed cock and rubbed firmly along its length.  John gasped and jerked backwards, leaning in even more against Sherlock.  The sight of the two pairs of taut and powerful arms, thickly veined and stretching vertically down onto John's thighs served to highlight the contrast between Sherlock's lissome and athletic grace and John's compact and quiet form - contrasting yet complimentary. 

The rest of their clothes were shed rapidly, leaving them once again facing each other and looking intently at each other, exposed but not vulnerable.  They were communicating meaningfully and silently through their expressions, as they always did.  But this - this called for a deeper exploration of trust.  They could feel the challenge in their racing pulses and they rose to it as they transmitted assurance through their eyes.  Sherlock brought his fingers up to John's mouth and John seized them up with his hand and sucked them with intent.  Sherlock inhaled sharply and mouths collided again.  They pushed and pulled each other onto the bed, kneeling, hips pressed together and hands clutching the buttocks of the other.  Like this, they rutted against each other, both huffing out quiet grunts.  One hand from each man moved to grasp each other's rock-hard cock whilst their foreheads and noses mashed together, eyes still open and gazing down at themselves.  Their free arms were wrapped around each other as leverage against their straining, twisting torsos.  Neither dominant nor pliant; just equal strength and balance in every controlled push, pull and twist - the torsion of powerful, taut bodies engaged in an erotic, athletic dance.  

Sarah was aware that she was not breathing enough.  Her knickers were sopping wet and tiny charges of electricity were shooting through her nipples.  She pushed down the top of her bra cups so that the lace edges caught just under her hard nipples. She rolled each nipple between her fingers which produced a gratifying jolt down her spine.  Her vulva was throbbing and her pussy was aching with want. She pushed down her knickers and kicked them under the blanket.  Spreading her legs she reached down and sluiced her fingers back and forth through her wet folds and over her engorged clit.  The sight of John, her adorable, sexy boyfriend, groaning with unmasked pleasure under the ministrations of his beautiful and brilliant flatmate was causing her to explode with sensory overload.  She curled two fingers inside herself and pumped gently at the throbbing ball of nerves, moaning quietly and biting her bottom lip.  Within half a minute a full-body orgasm erupted causing her to arch and writhe around in her corner.  She clenched and pulsed around her fingers, strangled whimpers escaping from her. _Oh fuck, fuck fuuuuck_.

She had to close her eyes for a while to stop watching the vision unfolding before her - it was too intense, too vivid, too much. For a while she just listened and breathed.  The scent of two men emitting pheromones in a small room was heady - a novel experience for her.  The sound of friction - calloused palms on rough, hairy, scarred skin - was so different to the sounds when a smooth female form was involved.  The slide and slap of strong, muscular bodies.  Creaking mattress springs with every shift of weight. The hisses and quavering breaths steadily being replaced by choked gasps.  In between the breathy moans were whispers.  What were they saying?  Sarah had to strain to hear.  Between their names and expletives they were murmuring.

_Feels... so good.. wanting this... you... only you... come on...so sure ... yes always you ... come on... for me... just for you ... never felt ... so right ... that's it ... come on Sherlock. ... yes John._

It slowly dawned on her - _They don't even remember that I'm here. Well I did tell them to forget..._

The murmurings grew louder and Sarah opened her eyes to see the two glistening bodies grinding and torquing and hurtling towards climax. As their clamorously expressive eyes fixed on each other they groaned out their orgasms loudly, first Sherlock and then John a few seconds later.   They clutched at each other's faces straight away and fell upon each other with tender, lingering kisses. It was intensely, viscerally, breathtakingly intimate.  

In a minute of clarity, Sarah realised that she was witness to much more than hot, frantic sex between friends.  John had told Sarah that, according to Sherlock, feelings were irrelevant to the act of coitus.  Well, the genius was either lying or he'd just undergone a Damascene conversion because Sherlock's entire being was humming with his feelings of deep desire and of _adoration_ , for John.  This ardent, passionate love-making - yes that's what it was - had unmasked the truth which these two friends were now forced to acknowledge.  Something had shifted and settled between the two men - John and Sherlock _belonged_ to each other.  Knuckle in socket.  Spanner on bolt.  Hand in glove.  

For John's part, he'd never hidden his admiration for his flatmate. Sarah had always suspected that he loved Sherlock but had shoved down those feelings out of fear of being rejected.  That had been part of the reason she had asked for this little scene.  John would hardly have agreed to do it with any other man.   _But what have you done now, Sarah?_   She suddenly felt like an intruder and a fool. 

She slipped out quietly and went upstairs to collect her things from John's bedroom.  As she was getting dressed, John entered his room and looked sheepishly at her shining eyes.  

"Sarah -"

"No, it's fine, really, John.  You don't need to ... I'm just glad ... we had something quite... good, didn't we?"

"We were great.  You are great," he said softly.

A long pregnant silence stretched out until John reached out and hugged Sarah in a tight embrace.  

"You are incredibly lucky John," she whispered.  "See you soon at the surgery, and take care."

She left the flat and shut the door quietly behind her.

ooOoo

John stood in the doorway to Sherlock's bedroom where there was a pale body sprawled face down on the bed.  Sherlock turned his head and swivelled one eye to look quizzically at his flatmate.  

"Why don't we send her some flowers next week?" Sherlock suggested.

"I agree that's the least we could do," replied John with a grin, taking purposeful steps into the bedroom.   

-end-   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting my first attempt at writing porn! If you like dance, you need to check out a clip of Torsion here. http://youtu.be/rNmX2Q9h6vo  
> The exploration of physicality between 2 men will remind you of our 2 favourite flatmates.  
> 


End file.
